


ideas, ideas.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Praise Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 00:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15328158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Lo-Lo, he's... A little uncomfortable with praise. The Grandmaster, he, uh, he really needs to do something about that.





	ideas, ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> "“Please don’t speak to me like that.” For Frostmaster?" - led-lite.

“You’re beautiful, don’t you know that?” Loki tunes out the words, focusing instead on the mouth that drags so slowly, so beautifully warm, from the dip of his ankle up the marble-white flesh of his calf, where the skin is completely hairless, and is as hard as stone. “You’re just so… Holy  _cats_ , honey, you’re, uh, you’re like a statue. Made just for me. So pretty. Look at these clean lines…” Loki shudders as the Grandmaster’s fingers play over the tendon at the back of his ankle on the other side, drawing up to the back of his knee.  “Mmm, baby, you are just– You are a  _picnic_.”

“A picnic?” Loki repeats, his lips twitching. 

“Uh  _huh_ ,” the Grandmaster purrs. His mouth draws up a little higher, sliding over his  _thigh_  now. “You are delicious, delectable, uh– What’s another D word that means  _good enough to eat_?” The Grandmaster’s mouth hovers over Loki’s cunt, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin, and Loki exhales. 

“Then pray,” Loki murmurs. “Eat.” The Grandmaster laughs, nipping playfully at the divot of his hip and making Loki shiver.

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “No, I want to… I want to  _appreciate_  you. You’re just so– Handsome. So lovely. I love every inch of this, ha, this nice skin - these muscles! Wow! And–” Loki feels sick to his stomach.

“Please,” Loki murmurs. “Don’t– Grandmaster, don’t speak to me like that, I don’t need it. Your favour is praise enough.” The Grandmaster sets his jaw, his brow furrowing, and he looks Loki in the face for a long few moments, displeasure plain on his features. Loki swallows, and he leans in, cupping the Grandmaster’s cheeks. “No, no, I don’t– I don’t mean to be ungrateful, I just… I don’t like it. Please, please, don’t–”

“I’m, ha, I’m hearing a lot of  _don’ts_ , honey. Not my favourite.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki says quickly, sliding his hands down toward the Grandmaster’s hips. “Let me make it up to you, let me please you with–” The Grandmaster puts his hand around Loki’s throat,  _squeezing_ , and Loki chokes out a desperate noise, cutting himself off.

“No. No, honey, see, it’s– You don’t get to say  _no_  to me. You get that? You don’t get to take my, uh, my  _compliments_  and spit ‘em back in my face… So we can do this, uh, one of two ways. Okay? Okay. Way one. You, uh, you sit back, and you let me lavish the–  _well-needed_  attention I wanna on this sexy little body of yours, let me point out the bits that I like… Or way two. I take you out to the arena tonight, and I give everyone a little, mmm, a little show before the fight. Topaz’ll get some of the big guys to, mmm, to whip the skin off that back of yours. Which do you choose?”

“Way two,” Loki grunts out immediately, struggling to breathe with the grip around his neck. “The arena.” The Grandmaster’s eyes widen slightly, and he tilts his head slightly to the side, his grasp loosening. He looks at Loki with something resembling…  _Concern_. Concern, and irritation, as if Loki’s discomfort is a  _personal insult_. 

“Mmm, there’s really… There’s no fun in broken toys,” he mutters softly, more to himself than to Loki, and he gently touches his thumb over the side of Loki’s jaw.  “Whaddya say we, uh, we take a break, huh? Let’s go out to Valefir, see the sunrises. Best sunrises in this sector on Valefir.”

Loki bites at his lower lip. This must be a trap, somehow, must be– It must be  _something_ , but he cannot quite see what it must be. And yet… He so desperately wishes to take a break from Sakaar, so wishes to be  _free_  for just a little while–

Loki nods, desperately.

“Best therapists, too,” the Grandmaster murmurs, and Loki frowns, but before he can open his mouth to ask, the Grandmaster’s mouth is on his own - all his thoughts are cast to the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up on Tumblr](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.
> 
> I love this one because... En Dwi Gast is such an awful man, and you know he'd get Loki therapy literally _just_ to fuck with him more? Build up those walls a bit, but build them as he wants to see them? Raise Loki's self-esteem just to make him more fun to play with, pay off the most unethical therapists in town?
> 
> Aw yeah. That's awful.


End file.
